Droog 76

Droog 76

Our last bottle finishedno said my Russian friendthere are always seven drops leftseemed empty to me he holds the bottle up and waitsexactly seven dropsthere…

Read Article →
THE WINTER EVERY PEN STOPPED WRITING WHILE THERE WAS STILL PLENTY OF INK LEFT

THE WINTER EVERY PEN STOPPED

was not a metaphor, and I like to thinkthe weed wasn’t either, the wayit took me three monthsto smoke half an ouncebecause I had one…

Read Article →
MY FATHER’S FATHER HAD SYPHILIS

MY FATHER’S FATHER HAD SYPHILIS

He was a peddler in a horse-drawn wagon that sank beneath a load of watermelons, canary-yellow corn, bushels of gladiolas and mountains of ruby-red grapes….

Read Article →
The Pistol as Means of Communication

The Pistol as Means of Communication

To not go home in January, I will burn my new calendars, as if they were bridges. An exercise just for show? What do you…

Read Article →
Queen of the Cosmos

Queen of the Cosmos

The pink dogwood buds pop on green branch.In St. Peters church: beneath the Lucite cross, from his snowy mountain, rajastic in white,Father Conri gives a…

Read Article →
C'est Fini

C’est Fini

The credits roll and the audience applauds on their feet.The sunset’s colors bid adieu before the night cloaks the earth.The last leaf of autumn floats…

Read Article →
A Vigil on Tiger Hill

A Vigil on Tiger Hill

The dark climb before dawnto catch the first lightbefore it grows common.Windows rolled downto un-spelled anagramsall over night’s loose gown. Memory of an early downpourIn…

Read Article →
UNFOUND

UNFOUND

If it was true, if it was true, I would be sitting at one windowAll one morning, testing the strength of the color blue. Is…

Read Article →
The Payoff

The Payoff

Simply press the shutter halfway downto activate the metering system. Initially, you may find the system irksome,but may soon recognize its value. You’ll realize your…

Read Article →
A Nilgai Deer in the City of Delhi

A Nilgai Deer in the City of Delhi

Between the high walland the roadwith six lines of trafficon a scrap of dried out soil under a dried up treea deer standsin the very…

Read Article →
Coming to grips with the sound of water

Coming to grips with the sound of water

I should live in Tucson or somewhere parched, with no water of its own, anyplace that can only provide me a few critical drops a…

Read Article →
The Dormouse and The Wig

The Dormouse and The Wig

“These are strange and uncertain times,”said the dormouse        to the drag queen’s fallen wig.The stock market was acting up again        and overflowing its banksThe lords rode the…

Read Article →
Some People Sleep a Lot Before They Die

Some People Sleep a Lot Before They Die

I’m looking at yougoing to look at flowersseated across in t r a i n s as the fields swim past usthe horses in their…

Read Article →
Where We Meet

Where We Meet

In bed, in the dark, your fingers brush the jagged “x”that marks my damaged past.I flinch out of habit, force myselfto be completely naked with…

Read Article →
Or So My Mamma Said

Or So My Mamma Said

He was a man, like all the rest, or so my mamma said. The violet and green that decorate my body, a sign of his…

Read Article →